This marked preference for the noble Howards enraptured the Roman Catholic party at court, and filled it with new hopes and new confidence.
But one there was who did not allow himself to be deceived by this mask which King Henry had to-day put on over his wrathful face.
John Heywood had faith neither in the king’s cheerfulness nor in his tenderness. He knew the king; he was aware that those to whom he was most friendly often had the most to fear from him. Therefore, he watched him; and he saw, beneath this mask of friendliness, the king’s real angry countenance sometimes flash out in a quick, hasty look.
The resounding music and the mad rejoicing no more deceived John Heywood. He beheld Death standing behind this dazzling life; he smelt the reek of corruption concealed beneath the perfume of these brilliant flowers.
John Heywood no longer laughed and no longer chatted. He watched.
For the first time in a long while the king did not need to-day the exciting jest and the stinging wit of his fool in order to be cheerful and in good humor.
So the fool had time and leisure to be a reasonable and observant man; and he improved the time.
He saw the looks of mutual understanding and secure triumph that Earl Douglas exchanged with Gardiner, and it made him mistrustful to notice that the favorites of the king, at other times so jealous, did not seem to be at all disturbed by the extraordinary marks of favor which the Howards were enjoying this evening.
Once he heard how Gardiner asked Wriothesley, as he passed by, “And the soldiers of the Tower?” and how he replied just as laconically, “They stand near the coach, and wait.”
It was, therefore, perfectly clear that somebody would be committed to prison this very day. There was, therefore, among the laughing, richly-attired, and jesting guests of this court, one who this very night, when he left these halls radiant with splendor and pleasure, was to behold the dark and gloomy chambers of the Tower.